Darkness of the Mind
by Quietly Dying
Summary: One-thousand years ago, necromancy was outlawed. Now, rumor has it making an appearance again. Quatre and Trowa must root it out at it source, and they are drawn into deadly conflict. Who is Heero? And what does Duo, a young werewolf, have to do with this
1. Chapter 1

**Genre**: Supernatural / Fantasy

**Pairings**: 3x4, 1x2, 6+1, 13+1, 13x6x13, 13+OC, 5+2

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. That's all.

**Warnings**: Yaoi, lemon, language, mental instability, possible OOCness, violence, abuse

**A/N**: Try this one on for size.

* * *

**Part One: Rumors of a Bygone Evil**

Rain streaked down the windows, making the magically maintained streetlights look blurry and indistinct. Sitting inside with a warm fire and comfortable chair, Quatre Winner found the effect quite cozy. The water clock on the wall told him it was late; where was Trowa?

As though thinking his name had conjured him out of thin air, the tall sorcerer abruptly entered his office through the back door. He brushed off his drenched black cloak and hung it by the cheery fire.

"Hi, little one," he greeted with a smile, leaning down to drop a kiss on Quatre's lips. "Miserable night, isn't it?"

Quatre smiled. "A bit dreary. Is that why you're so late?"

The single visible eye met Quatre's with emerald disdain. "As though a little rainstorm could slow me down. No, I have news. I've received a letter for you from a woman who claims she has some information on a party of suspected necromancers. Right here in the city, even. I've spent the better part of the evening tracking this woman down and setting up a meeting between the two of you."

Raising an eyebrow, Quatre leaned back. "A letter for me? How is it you got to read it before I did?"

Trowa shrugged, expression unrepentant. "You weren't here when it came in, and it seemed important. So I took the liberty of opening it."

Rolling his eyes, Quatre stood. "I suppose I should be annoyed. So, what did you set up?"

"She is free tomorrow for lunch. I decided on a somewhat less formal affair to help her feel at ease—she seems a bit worried. Wouldn't even give me her name. That quaint little diner on Chendron Lane. You know the one."

"Mm, Crystal and Lace?"

"The very same. I told her the charming and elegant assistant to the Defense Council's Commander would be happy to meet with her and talk."

Quatre snorted. "Assistant of the Commander?"

Trowa smiled. "I threw that in for your protection. Just in case."

"Ah. Well, thank you for running my life so smoothly. Whatever would I do without you."

"Get lost and wander the streets 'til you die, inevitably," Trowa said, holding up Quatre's cloak. "Now let me guide you home."

Shaking his head, Quatre stepped under the cloak's protective folds. "My knight in shining armor."

Trowa just smiled.

-

At noon the following day Quatre sat in Crystal and Lace with a startlingly attractive woman who named herself Murielle. "I do apologize for not giving my name," she said, "but until this necromancer threat is squelched I thought it wisest not to reveal my identity."

"No need to apologize," Quatre said with a smile, waving his hand. "I understand. My name is Quatre."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Quatre. Trowa told me you are the assistant of the Defense Council's Commander?"

Quatre absently swirled his dark red wine. "I suppose one could call me that."

"Then what I say will reach his ears?"

Quatre grinned slightly. "I guarantee it."

"Wonderful. Then I won't beat about the bush. There are five men who live in this city in a huge mansion. They goings on around it are so strange; I'm certain they're necromancers."

"Can you provide proof?" Quatre asked. "I can't authorize an investigation without legitimate reason."

"Unfortunately, no. But I do know of another who could."

"A witness?"

"Of sorts. You see, those men found a boy some years ago; he could only have been ten or eleven at the time. I don't know where the poor thing came from, thin and dirty as he was I bet his parents died and no one would take him in. Anyway, while those awful men did give him a place to sleep and food to eat, it came at a terrible price. They treat him like a pet dog."

Quatre frowned. "Can you elaborate on that?"

"For starters," Murielle said with a deep sigh, "they make him wear the most tiny, awful clothing. They parade him around like a damn trophy, for he's a lovely little thing. As if that weren't bad enough, they make him wear a collar and lead him around on a leash. They also make him sit on the ground at their feet and feed him from their hands. It's disgusting. But I don't know what to do. I'm sure if you talked to him he'd tell you what he knows. Maybe you're in a position to offer him some sort of life."

Quatre nodded. "I will certainly see what I can do. Thank you very much for your help, Murielle. Now, about lunch. I've never eaten here before, so can you recommend a good choice?"

-

They called themselves Wraith and Fade, and they were the two best bodyguards Quatre had in his employ. Though both large and rather bulky, they could move with speed and silence. It made them a deadly team, so naturally they were the best choice to send out after this boy Murielle had spoken of. Quatre's instructions were clear.

"Please bring him back with you so I can ask him about the ones suspected of practicing necromancy."

Now, as he took care of a little paperwork while waiting for them to return, he wondered if he should have been a little more clear.

"Quatre?" came Trowa's inquiry. "Working late again? You do know you have a home, right?"

Quatre smiled, not looking up. "Are you here for a reason? Or just to bother me?"

"The latter, regrettably," Trowa said, sitting down and propping his feet up on Quatre's desk. The sorcerer had an appalling lack of concern for expensive furniture. "Was your lunch with Miss Anonymous productive? Did it provide any good leads?"

"Yes, I think so," Quatre said, finally setting down his quill. "She gave me the location of a person who may have inside information on this party of suspected necromancers. Wraith and Fade are bringing him here tonight."

"Ah," Trowa said. "Wise choice. Those two excel at their job of intimidating people into doing what they . . . request."

Quatre's lips quirked into a little grin. "I like to think of it as aggressive persuasion."

Trowa snorted. "Indeed. Do you think you will be coming home at all tonight? I have missed your company since this rumor of necromancy sprang up from the void."

Shrugging, Quatre leaned back. "I've missed you. But it's my job, lover mine. I'm the Defense Council Commander." He rolled his shoulders in an effort to relieve some tension.

Trowa rose from his seat and came around behind him, his warm hands skillfully digging into sore muscles along Quatre's back and neck. "You work too hard. Let me help more."

"You already do so much," Quatre protested faintly, his eyes already slipping shut.

"I'm a sorcerer," Trowa murmured into his ear, gently nibbling around the outer shell. "I can handle it."

Quatre turned his head to kiss his older lover, but the door opening alerted him to the return of the two men. For a moment he thought they'd returned alone, but they parted to reveal a thin, rather short boy sandwiched between them. He couldn't be much older than sixteen, and he looked absolutely terrified. When he took in the whole scene, he saw why. Wraith and Fade, both men of few words, had him in iron manacles. He rubbed his forehead. I knew I should have been more direct.

"Thank you both," he said a bit tartly. "You may go."

They gave him slight bows and departed. Anxious to make a potential contact feel more at ease, Quatre hurried to the boy's side and put an arm around his shoulders, guiding him to a padded chair. Trowa didn't need a request from him to remove the manacles; they fell to the floor with a metallic thunk.

Murielle had been right. The boy wore an outfit befitting a whore, so tight it looked like a second skin. Quatre pulled the afghan off his chair and draped it around the poor boy, who was visibly shivering.

"I'm sorry about those two," he said gently. "I asked them to bring you here so I could ask you a few questions, but they . . . ah, are an overzealous pair. My name is Quatre. My I ask yours?"

Eyes the color of the deepest iris, somewhere between indigo and violet, glanced at the hand he offered, then came up to meet aqua. After a lengthy hesitation he accepted the other's greeting, and his hand was frigid.

"Duo," he said in a soft, sweet alto, immediately looking away.

Quatre didn't let the silence linger. "An individual has come to me with concerns that men you know are practicing necromancy. As you know, the Prime Minister at the time outlawed necromancy nearly one-thousand years ago. This person was sure you could either confirm or refute these allegations, as we need irrefutable proof of wrongdoing before conducting any investigation."

His speech was met with silence. The boy's eyes, such a startling shade, roved all over the office floor.

"This individual didn't implicate you, of course," Quatre added. "You are not included in this suspicion of wrongdoing. My hope was that you could provide us with the necessary evidence to stop this spread of evil before it takes root."

Still the boy did not respond, refusing to meet his eyes. He could tell the poor thing was scared. But of what? The silence stretched until it felt brittle.

"You know," Trowa said quietly, "we can get you away from them. Find you a better place to live."

Quatre saw something he couldn't quite identify flicker through the boy's eyes, then he stood so abruptly the afghan fell to the floor.

"I have to go," he said, voice oddly hoarse.

Stepping forward, Quatre put out an arm to block his path. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

After a moment the boy nodded, then pushed past him to disappear into the night. Quatre watched him go, then looked up at Trowa. "Think he'll come back?"

The sorcerer shook his head. "No. We'll most likely never see him again."

-

The darkness caressed Duo's skin like a cold hand. Everything appeared as clear to his eyes as if the sun was still shining. He shivered. He hated being cold. These slinky clothes Braudon made him wear didn't exactly promote warmth. Speaking of him . . .

Where will I tell them I've been? Not that it mattered. They seldom asked and never cared. So long as he came back. He stared at the cobblestone beneath his bare feet. And I always do, don't I? Such a good boy.

He cringed inwardly. Braudon's favorite thing to say to Duo after forcing him . . . to beg. He pushed a lock of hair out of his face, wondering why being offered freedom scared him so much. Possibly because his bondage was at least familiar. What would happen to him if he didn't have these five to rely on, no matter how poorly they treated him?

"What if it got worse?" he whispered to no one. Freezing or starting to death would be worse.

Or maybe it wouldn't be. No, what really scared him was the power the moon had over him, his inability to control it, and what he might do because of it. Whatever the reason, he desperately hated this life he led.

"Where were you, sugar?" Braudon asked as soon as he walked into the huge, ugly house.

Duo shut the door and leaned against it, posture closed and demure. "Nowhere. Enjoying the night."

Braudon looked up from the whatever he was working on. "You don't like the cold," he said flatly.

Duo shook his head. "No, but it's a beautiful night."

After a slight pause, Braudon grinned. "Ah, I see. It's a new moon tonight."

Looking away, Duo went upstairs. It was a cold night. Too cold. Which meant he'd have to find relief in one of his benefactors' beds. He absolutely hated the cold.

* * *

"Put your work down," Trowa said in his most bossy voice. "I'm taking you out tonight, and no, I won't let you protest."

Quatre looked up from the work still sitting on his desk. "I have a lot to do, Trowa," he tried. And it was true. Because he hated it so much he tended to let it pile up. Maybe I ought to hire a secretary to do it for me.

"I just told you not to protest," Trowa said, leaning down and kissing the breath out of Quatre. "Come on. Here's your cloak. If I have to drag you out of here I will."

Making a face, conceding defeat, Quatre rose and twined his arms around Trowa's neck. He brought their lips back together for a deep, sweet kiss. It lingered until Trowa broke away with a smile.

"I have the perfect place for us."

The nightclub Stuff of Legend was only for the classy, filthy rich. Upon entering one might feel they had entered another plane of existence. Everything glittered and sparkled wildly. Quatre loved it instantly, though he never would have picked it as a place to spend an evening.

Trowa led him to the bar and ordered him a drink, sitting down beside him. "Now, isn't this a great place? And I'm warning you now, love. No talk of work. I want to see you relax."

"I'm always relaxed," Quatre said, smiling as he sipped his drink. It was sweet and bubbly. "I like it here, but it's not really me, is it?"

"Oh, you fit in just fine. Your family is obscenely wealthy, and you're uncommonly pretty. A perfect fit."

Chuckling, Quatre rested his head on Trowa's shoulder.

"Quatre?" exclaimed a newly-familiar voice. "Fancy seeing you here!"

Turning, Quatre was surprised to see Murielle there with two men. One was moderately attractive, the other was stunningly so. "Well, isn't this a nice surprise."

"And Trowa," she said, beaming. "Allow me to introduce my friends. This is Gaben, my brother. And this is Heero Yuy, my neighbor and sometimes roommate." She giggled.

Quatre had to admit, Heero was absolutely beautiful. Tall, probably eye-to-eye with Trowa, his dark hair was almost black and hung roguishly in his impossibly cobalt blue eyes. He was incredibly pale, a cast almost unhealthy. It looked like it might have been golden-toned once, but since all color had been washed out. Still, on him it enhanced his beauty.

"A pleasure," he said, smiling and shaking their hands. "I'm Quatre Winner, and this is Trowa Barton."

Heero blinked. "Winner," he said in a smooth voice. "Relation to the Winners?"

Quatre smiled. "The Prime Minister is my father."

"We ran into Heero here," Murielle piped up. She looked at him. "You didn't come alone, did you?"

"No," Heero replied, smiling faintly. "Krysonia is with me. I am here, in fact, at her insistence."

"Why don't you and she join us for a drink?" Quatre suggested.

Heero's endless eyes met his. "She would like that. If you'll excuse me just one moment, I will go find her."

"Are you talking about me, angel?" came a sultry voice from behind Heero.

He stepped aside to reveal a woman just as beautiful as he was himself. Like him she was pale, but her hair was silver as coin. Her eyes were of a likewise hue, framed by sinfully long lashes. Heero gave her an unreadable look.

"Sonia, this is Quatre and Trowa. Everyone, this is Krysonia."

She gave them a smile lacking one fundamental element: warmth. "A pleasure, I'm sure." She turned to Heero. "Your friend Braudon is here, love."

"He is not my friend," Heero said in a startlingly cold voice. "Tell him I'll see him in the morning and not before."

Krysonia smiled again. "As you wish. Don't get too bored without me." And she drifted off.

Quatre watched her go, then smiled up at Heero. "Please, sit. We can always do with company of new friends."

Heero returned the smile, seating himself with effortless grace. "Thank you. And allow me to apologize for that. The man she spoke of, I do not care for him. We do business, and I'm afraid he's . . . coarse for my taste."

Quatre held up a hand. "No need to explain. Krysonia is a lovely woman."

Heero looked distracted. "I suppose she is."

"You and she seem close."

For a moment, Heero's eyes lost their focus. "As close as we can be. We're very different people."

"I can see she's fond of you," Quatre murmured as Trowa slid a tumbler of wine in Heero's direction. "You live here in Desaugnne?"

"Part of the year," Heero confirmed, sipping the dark beverage. "I travel a lot."

"Work?" Trowa asked.

"Predominantly."

"What is it you do?" Trowa inquired, "if you don't mind my asking."

Heero gave him a funny little smile. "I head a private organization with two other men. We're based out of Rauldone."

Quatre smiled. "Rauldone is a nice city. I have a few friends there."

"It's a little crowded for my taste," Heero said. "I prefer Desaugnne."

"As do I," Quatre agreed.

"And what about you?" Heero asked. "What do you do?"

"Actually, I work for my father."

For some reason, Heero looked . . . surprised. "Indeed. What is it you do for him? Are you a member of his Defense Council?"

"Yes," Quatre replied. "An aide to the Commander."

"A noteworthy position."

Trowa snorted into his drink.

"Hardly," Quatre said. "Seems like all I ever do is file paperwork."

Heero shrugged. "That's an important job. After all, someone's got to do it."

Quatre laughed. They continued to make small talk until Krysonia reappeared, smiling that cold smile of hers.

"It looks like you've been enjoying yourself, doll," she purred. "Someone wants to talk to you."

A man appeared at her side. Holding a golden chain in one hand, Quatre noticed in horror that it was attached to a black collar fastened around the neck of Duo. Their eyes locked for a split second, then the boy looked away. When the man holding his leash sat, Duo sank down by his feet, graceful and fluid.

Heero looked disgusted. "You have nothing to say to me, Braudon."

It sounded like a threat.

"Now, don't be angry," the man soothed. "I just thought I'd come by and say hi. My pet's been missing you, haven't you sugar?"

Duo looked up at Braudon, then Heero. He looked . . . resigned. Used to this treatment. Quatre hated Braudon in that instant.

If you're a necromancer, he thought viciously, you and all those affiliated with you are history. He tried to catch Duo's eye, but the boy steadfastly refused to look at him. He stood up.

"I apologize, but we should be going. I have an early day, tomorrow. Heero, it was nice to meet you. Krysonia." He nodded. "Good night."

Trowa must have caught his mood, for he followed without a word. Once out in the night he slid an arm around Quatre's shoulders. "What, love?" he murmured.

Quatre was too angry to reply. Shaking his head, he didn't speak until they reached the safety of their home. Flinging his cloak to the floor, he stalked to their bedroom and stripped off his clothes with near-violent intent. He made it to the bathroom door before Trowa stopped him, wrapping his arms around Quatre's naked chest.

"I know you," he murmured. "You want to help that boy, don't you?"

"I hate that bastard," Quatre hissed. "I hate him, and I've never seen him before. If he's a necromancer, I'll destroy him!"

Trowa spun him and sealed their mouths together in a heated kiss. For a moment Quatre struggled against him, but Trowa quickly turned his rage into passion. In the blink of an eye Trowa had him down on the bed, pinned, kissing and biting down his neck.

"You can't let it get to you," he admonished, sliding his knee between Quatre's thighs.

Quatre hissed out a groan. "H-how can I not? You saw the way he treated him!"

"That's not what I meant," Trowa murmured, biting Quatre's shoulder. "Don't lose your head."

Growling, Quatre raised his hips and ground himself against Trowa's thigh. "You talk too much."

"Someone's got to make sure you keep your wits about you," Trowa said, chuckling.

As he lowered his head and took Quatre in his mouth, the younger man closed his eyes and let the sensations sweep him away. He was nowhere near done thinking about it. But there were times and places for these things. Now was neither the time nor the place.

-

It isn't wrong to want to help someone. It's only natural that I'd want to get him out of such a terrible life.

"You can't help him if he won't be helped," Trowa had said.

Logically, he knew that. But Quatre hated the look in those big, indigo eyes. So scared and sad. He was too young to look so weary. He couldn't stand the thought of Duo remaining trapped with those men forever. The one called Braudon referring to him as 'pet' nearly broke his heart.

"It's not wrong," he insisted to his empty office. But it preoccupied him to the point of distraction.

Maybe I should break down and go find him. The problem was, he had no idea where to look for him. And, at this time of night, he was most likely not out and about.

The back door opened. He sighed. "I'm almost done, Trowa," he said, picking up his quill. "I'll be home in a bit."

Silence. Feeling a little annoyed, he turned in his chair, but his ire died without being articulated. It was not his lover standing there.

"Duo!" he exclaimed, startled. "What are you doing here?"

The boy crossed the room and sank down to crouch in front of him. "If I help you, what will happen to me?" he demanded in a whisper.

He hadn't thought about it all, but the answer sprang to Quatre's lips before he considered any options. "You'll come stay with me until you're comfortable trying to make it on your own."

It was Duo's turn to look startled. Suspicion replaced it immediately. "And what would you want in return?"

Quatre's eyes were sad. "To see you smile," he murmured.

Duo blinked and sat back on his haunches, looking for all the world like a confused puppy. "Smile?" he repeated as if that was the most foreign thing in the world to him. "That's really what you'd want?"

Quatre nodded.

For a long time, Duo simply stared at him, eyes never leaving his nor blinking. "I'll try," he said finally, sitting down at Quatre's feet.

Quatre leaned down and gently pulled him up. "Here, sit in a chair. It's more comfortable than the floor, and you're not a dog."

A grimace passed over Duo's face when he said that, but he sat in the chair opposite her. "Murielle was right. They are necromancers. Well, no they're not. But they use necromancy."

Picking up his quill once more, Quatre dug out a black parchment. "Tell me their names."

"Braudon, Matosche, Ruebos, Indescott, and Deitrich. They live in a big, ugly brown mansion on West Oaklund Lane. The one not numbered."

Quatre wrote it all down. "I'll need a formal written statement from you detailing their activities, but not tonight. For now, let's get you home and out of those awful clothes. You must be freezing."

He nodded and stood as soon as Quatre did. "Where do you live?"

"Crystallune Avenue. It's close enough I always walk, so you can wear my cloak. It'll help."

Once Duo was wrapped up in the cloak, Quatre led him out into the night. He followed close enough as to almost touch him, but Quatre maintained that slight distance for the boy's comfort.

"How do you know Murielle?" he asked at length.

"She and Heero lived not far from the house," the boy said. "Braudon would leave me with Heero sometimes when he and the others left for business. Sometimes Murielle was there." He hesitated. "I've always liked them."

"Then you must know Krysonia?"

Something dark passed over the boy's face. "Yes. I don't like Krysonia. Her hands are always colder than ice. Not like Heero. His hands are always warm."

"It sounds like you care about him."

Duo looked at him, then, and the moonlight glinted off the surfaces of his eyes like a cat's or dog's. It was disconcerting, sending a shiver up Quatre's spine and a suspicion to his mind.

"Yes," Duo replied finally. "He's always been nice to me, even though—" he broke off.

Quatre hurried to fill the gap. "Even though?" he insisted.

The boy shook his head. "Nothing."

"Even though you're a werewolf?" Quatre finished quietly.

That stopped Duo dead in his tracks. "What makes you . . . why would you . . . how—?"

"Your eyes," Quatre said. "Besides, it makes sense now, why you were treated like that. In this country slavery is prohibited, but keeping weres as . . . pets is not an uncommon practice elsewhere."

Duo's eyes darted wildly back and forth between Quatre's. "Are you going to . . . will you . . . ?"

"No," Quatre cut him off. "It doesn't change anything. You're still coming home with me."

Now the boy looked incredulous, but as if afraid talking would change Quatre's mind, he kept silent. Quatre could see the task of winning his trust would be a long and difficult one.

* * *

"Duo's statement got all five of those men arrested," Quatre told Trowa just a week later. "Each of them has admitted to practicing necromancy, though none of them have said where they learned it or who from. I'm also pursuing the charge of illegal enslavement of a were. Since Duo flat out refuses to appear in front of a panel, I'm keeping it an issue for my father. He's coming home in a few days to meet Duo and ask him a few questions about it."

Trowa nodded. "I haven't been home much. How's he doing?"

Quatre shrugged, sighing. "He doesn't do much besides eat, sleep, and avoid me. He disappears in the morning and doesn't reappear until late evening."

Trowa sank down into the chair opposite him. "I've gotten a written statement from Murielle concerning those men's suspicious behavior, but we need one more to make this case. Can you think of anyone else who might be of help to us?"

"Well, yes, actually. Cancel my afternoon appointments, and I'll go speak with him directly."

-

It took less than an hour to track Murielle down and locate the man named Heero Yuy. Before midday he stood before the other man's door, knocking for admittance. He seemed vaguely surprised to see Quatre.

"What an unexpected pleasure," he said, inclining his head. "What can I do for you, Lord Winner?"

"Quatre, please. I'm not here for social purposes, I'm afraid. I would like to ask you a few questions about five men accused of practicing necromancy." He heard a loud thump from somewhere in the house. "Unless this is a bad time?"

Heero smiled faintly. "Not at all. What you hear are cats."

Quatre raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Big cats?"

"No, just many of them. Please, come in. would you like some tea?"

"Thank you."

While he disappeared to boil water, several cats appeared, meowing their curiosity at having been invaded by a stranger. More and more appeared until several dozen were peering at him and corralling about. Heero had been quite serious, apparently.

"Well," Quatre mused. "Where did you all come from?"

"Strays, mostly," Heero said, appearing at his side. "I have an affinity for cats. Krysonia always says all the strays from Rauldone on down follow me here."

Quatre smiled. "Where is Krysonia? Is she here?"

"No. She left just a few days ago, headed back to Rauldone."

"I see. That must be hard on you both, being away from each other."

Heero just shrugged. "Hard on her, maybe. It's rather a relief, for me."

Quatre blinked. "That's a bit callous, isn't it?"

The other just smiled. "Perhaps. We're very different. But you came here to ask me a few questions?"

Coming back to himself, Quatre nodded. This wasn't the time or place for idle chat. "Yes. When Murielle introduced us in Stuff of Legend some nights ago, you spoke with a man named Braudon. He has since been accused of practicing necromancy."

"Yes, I know."

Once again startled, Quatre frowned. "Do you mind my asking how?"

"Certainly not. I heard it from the same source as you. One timid, damaged little werewolf named Duo."

Blink. "Duo told you?"

"Yes. I suspected, actually, that you would come calling. I'm very pleased with the fact that he is away from those men, and grateful to you for offering him shelter. He is not used to making it on his own."

"I just felt like it was the right thing to do," Quatre said. "But please tell me what you know about those men, starting with their relationships with you."

Heero retreated just long enough to bring him a cup of tea. "They work for one of my two partners. He lives in Rauldone, as well. They do a form of advertising for him, rounding up business. This means they work for me, too, of course, but I've had very little to do with them. They're men without scruple or morals, something I cannot abide. I was the first they came to when they found Duo. It is one of my deepest regrets, telling them that he is a werewolf."

"You can tell weres apart from humans?"

"Yes. Not a very common gift, I know."

Though Heero had once again piqued his curiosity, Quatre ignored it. "That's not really the issue here. What I'd like to know is have you witnessed these men engaging in any sort of illegal activity? Specifically dabbling in necromancy?"

"Yes. I'll give you a written statement and anything else you need. I'm more than happy to cooperate."

"Thank you, Heero. I appreciate it." He sipped the tea. "On a more personal note, I've been worried about Duo. He disappears all day, and I was hoping you knew where he goes."

"As a matter of fact, I do. I'll take you to him right now."

He led Quatre upstairs past many more cats to a small room with no furniture. The temperature was almost unbearably high. There, curled up on a thick quilt in the middle of the floor, was Duo. He looked so peaceful in repose Quatre smiled.

"There you are," he murmured.

He'd spoken very softly, but Duo still stirred.

"He has very good hearing," Heero said, unnecessarily.

"How come it's so hot in here?" Quatre whispered.

"Weres have abnormally low body temperatures," Heero replied, not bothering to keep his voice low, "so Duo is always cold. Aren't you, pup?" He knelt beside the sleepy werewolf.

The boy only made a soft, inarticulate sound and curled up even tighter. Quatre smiled, watching the man stroke that long, shining chestnut hair.

Then Heero stood. "Have you given any thought as to how you're going to deal with his change?"

Quatre frowned. "Change? You mean on the full moon?"

"Yes. You'll have an adolescent wolf on your hands."

"I'm afraid I haven't," Quatre admitted. "I don't know anything about weres."

"It might benefit you both to read up on them. Duo's former benefactors just drugged him and locked him up. Will you do the same?"

Quatre glared at him, shocked. "Never. He's not a dog. I'll face it when it comes."

"He won't recognize you. Duo has not learned to control his change."

"We'll figure it out. I won't treat him like some wild animal."

Heero smiled. "I think you're going to be very good for him. Do you hear that, pup?"

"I heard you just fine," the boy muttered. He glanced up at Quatre, the light glinting off his eyes. "I don't know what will happen to me when the moon rises."

Quatre just smiled. "Trowa can help us there. You may remember him?" His lover hadn't been around much since Quatre brought Duo home with him.

Duo looked away and nodded. "The tall sorcerer."

A little surprised, Quatre frowned. "How did you know he's a sorcerer?"

Duo shrugged. "Magic leaves a distinct scent on people. And when I first met you, he unlocked those manacles with magic."

Oh. Quatre had forgotten about that. "Does necromancy? Leave a scent?"

For some reason, the young werewolf looked at Heero. "Sometimes. Not always."

"Hmm. Well, I've taken up enough of your time, Heero. I believe I'll be on my way. Duo, would you rather stay here tonight?"

He surprised Quatre by shaking his head and rising. "I'll go with you."

"Good afternoon then, Heero. You know where my office is; stop by whenever your statement is prepared. Ready, Duo?"

The boy looked at Heero, and the taller man smiled at him, raising a hand to brush the werewolf's cheek. Blinking, Duo followed Quatre out.

* * *

"Quatre, your contacts have heard some interesting things lately, happenings in Rauldone."

Smiling warmly, Quatre rose from his chair and hugged his lover. "Welcome home." He kissed him before sinking back down. "Rauldone, huh? Seems I've been hearing a lot about that city lately."

"Have you ever heard of a thing called the Triumvirate?"

"No. What is it?"

"Well, an oligarchy, I suppose," Trowa replied, folding himself down. "According to rumor, it's made up of three powerful necromancers who . . . actually, rumor doesn't say what they're after. But unlike our five in custody who dabble in illegal activities, these three are actually Necromancers."

Quatre rubbed his forehead. "I'd rather hoped this comeback necromancy seems to be making was rumor, but it doesn't seem like it. Send out pigeons; everyone is to be on alert for any news of this Triumvirate."

"It won't do any good," Duo said softly from the doorway. "The Triumvirate isn't in Rauldone anymore."

Quatre sat up very quickly. "You know about the Triumvirate?"

The young were shrank back a bit. "A little. They're trying to bring necromancy back. Braudon and the others work for one of the three."

Mind racing, Quatre tried to decide what to do. "Do you know any of them? What they look like?"

"No," Duo said, shivering, "but Krysonia is married to one of the them."

Shock shot up Quatre's spine like ice. Heero? A Necromancer? No. That made no sense. Why would he turn his own men over to the Defense Council? _I'll have to talk to him again_.

"Do you know where they are now, Duo?"

"Here. In Desaugnne."

-

Later, as Quatre lay in bed beside Trowa trying to work it out in his mind, he had to admit Heero fit into all this perfectly. He didn't want to believe that, because he genuinely liked the man, but it was too coincidental to be chance.

A soft sound startled him out of his thoughts, bringing the sleeping Trowa awake instantly. "Who's there?" the sorcerer demanded.

Duo materialized out of the shadows. "I-I'm sorry, Quatre," he whispered, looking at once scared and miserable, "but I'm so cold . . ."

Quatre smiled, nudging Trowa a little. His lover pushed the covers back. "Here, we'll get you warm in no time."

The boy didn't need a second bidding. He climbed in between them, curling up alongside Quatre like a puppy with its mother. He laid his head on Quatre's belly, completely buried beneath the blankets. Trowa spooned up behind him, wrapping his arms around them both.

Quatre let all thought drift away. For some reason, having the boy werewolf there seemed to soothe his worries. In moments he was sound asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Genre**: Supernatural / Fantasy

**Pairings**: 3x4, 1x2, 6+1, 13+1, 13x6x13, 13+OC, 5+2

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. That's all.

**Warnings**: Yaoi, lemon, language, mental instability, possible OOCness, violence, abuse

**A/N:** I packed a lot of information in that last chapter. If it felt a little rushed I apologize—I just wanted to get all the background gunk over with. Just so all my readers know, I'm a total perv. I write lemons all over the place. If you object, DON'T READ. There! Now that that's over with, enjoy!

* * *

**Part Two: Truth and Lies**

Quatre woke slowly, feeling warm and pleasantly heavy. While the former wasn't new, the latter was. Opening his eyes, it took him a moment to realize what it must have been. Duo was still in bed with him—extremely unusual, that—and was lying mostly on top of him.

The thin little werewolf looked incredibly peaceful. He didn't look as pale as he normally did, the faintest hint of appealing color showing on his face. He'd shifted a little in his sleep so his head was now resting on Quatre's chest instead of his stomach. Smiling, Quatre closed his eyes again and relished in this feeling of closeness.

Only one other person in his life had made Quatre feel like this. A sense of rightness, as though they were meant to be near him always. And that other was Trowa. Trowa, a sorcerer older than Quatre by about a century. Quatre's father had hired the man when Quatre was just an infant, so he'd literally grown up adoring Trowa. Those emotions had gone from youthful and innocent to adult and not-so-innocent.

Feeling a hint of color heat his own cheeks, Quatre's smile widened into a small grin. Trowa hadn't been all that resistant to changing their relationship.

"Finally awake, angel?" came the familiar voice. Soft.

Only then did Quatre realize Trowa was not actually in bed with him anymore. Blinking, he looked up into verdant eyes full of many emotions, the foremost being love. On his belly Duo twitched, nestling a little deeper with a slightly indignant sound. As though he didn't want to be wakened.

Quatre couldn't help it and laughed quietly. "Yeah. Doesn't he look cute?"

Trowa leaned down and kissed the tip of his lover's nose. "He does. Thinking you want to keep him?"

Keeping his touch light so as not to wake the werewolf, Quatre gently ran his fingers over the boy's shoulder. "I'll help him as long as he needs me," he replied. "I can't believe how unbelievably lucky finding him was. He knows so much about these rumors flying around every which way."

Trowa nodded thoughtfully. "You have to go see this Heero again, don't you?"

A certain tightness constricted Quatre's gut. "Yes. Somehow, he's involved. I hate to think it, because I genuinely like him. But I've got to know the truth."

"Will you arrest him if he's indeed a Necromancer?"

Quatre nodded, no hesitation. "Yes. No one has ever used that ability for anything but ill."

Leaning down a little, Trowa carefully slid his arms under Duo and lifted him as though he were a featherweight. "Then I'll take him so you can leave. I know it's bothering you."

Quatre nodded, watching his lover leave with his small burden. He wondered why Trowa didn't ask him why he wasn't just pressing Duo for information. He obviously knew quite a bit. But plain and simple, he didn't want Duo to suffer anymore. Not for any reason. Rising, he made ready to leave. He paused downstairs only long enough to grab a quick bite.

The day outside rather matched his mood. Somewhat gray and gloomy. It seemed the more he learned, the less likely it was that all these rumors were baseless. The Triumvirate. What were they? Had necromancy established such a foothold that no one had noticed?

Before he knew it his feet had carried him to Heero Yuy's door. Upon knocking he didn't wait long for the man to answer. He looked surprisingly weary, but he straightened when he saw Quatre.

"Well, two visits in as many days. Please come in, Quatre. I will put on some water for tea."

"No, that is not necessary," Quatre immediately declined. "I'm afraid my business is of the most urgent nature. I must know what you and your two partners do. Specifically. And their names."

Obviously it caught Heero a little off-guard, but he sat and folded his hands. "Treize Khushrenada and Yadien Valar. We actually do many things, including run one of the most profitable traveling caravans in the country. Our largest source of income would be a silks business. Krysonia has developed a taste for the material, so we started a business that has been hugely successful."

"Which one of your partners is here in Desaugnne?"

Heero blinked. "How did you know one of them was here?"

Letting his eyes go colder, Quatre leaned forward. "That's not important. I need to know."

"Treize," Heero replied, and Quatre watched his pale face lose even more color. Almost as though he felt poorly. "Treize is here, he came to bring Krysonia back to Desaugnne."

"Why?"

Heero reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Because she feels I need someone to babysit me. I suppose she feels I will not behave otherwise, though she knows I prefer her not to be here at all."

It was Quatre's turn to blink. "Why would you say something like that? It's as though you don't love her at all!"

"I don't," Heero said in a hard, completely flat voice. "And I don't know why she insists on coming here as though she lived with me and not Treize."

"How could you say something so cold?" Quatre demanded, incensed.

Cobalt eyes that could have been carved from marble bored into his. "Do you not think it proper for a woman devote her attention to her husband?"

Feeling a bit like someone had just yanked the floor out from under him, Quatre gazed at Heero in confusion. "I . . . are you not he?" he finally asked.

Now it was Heero's turn to look off-kilter. "Am I her husband?" he said. His eyes flickered shut and he uttered a laugh that sounded more tired than mirthful. "No. Krysonia is in fact my elder half-sister. Treize is her husband, not I. Were I not related to Sonia, I still would not be brave enough to marry her."

It took a second, but when that had the chance to fully register Quatre felt the majority of his worries fade. So Duo had not been talking about Heero at all. He wasn't sure why he felt so relieved, but he didn't question it a great deal. Perhaps it was because Duo was so obviously attached to Heero and Quatre had come to care about Duo. Raking fingers through his golden hair, he heaved a sigh.

"I confess, that is good to hear."

For a moment, Heero didn't speak. Then, "You must have harbored a frightfully low opinion of me, believing me her husband and treating her with such indifference." A hint of dry humor.

Quatre snorted softly. "I will admit to that as well. I apologize for my abrupt interrogation. Would you perhaps care to join Duo and myself for lunch? I know he would enjoy your company. And I could use your advice concerning our little one."

Heero nodded. "You're worried about the full moon."

"It's less than a week away," Quatre confirmed. "I know nothing about werewolves, and I would appreciate anything you could tell me about them."

"Your sorcerer friend does not provide the help you desired?"

Grinning faintly, Quatre nodded ruefully. "Not nearly as much as I desired. Trowa is a wealth of knowledge about many things, but not werewolves. And I'm afraid very little is written about them."

"I would be happy to help. Where shall we meet?"

"Actually, if you're not averse to the idea you're welcome to come home with me now."

Smiling again, Heero rose. "I'm not averse to the idea at all."

-

Though Heero hadn't expected anything less, the grandeur of Quatre Winner's estate still managed to impress him. It was positively huge. Not the biggest he'd ever seen, but certainly the finest. Everything was tasteful and perhaps even a bit subdued, an interesting paradox to its size.

He didn't see the tall sorcerer anywhere. That man made him just the slightest bit uncomfortable. He knew Trowa wasn't as young as he looked. Probably he was at least a century and a half in age, for his eyes bespoke great wisdom. But while Trowa was nowhere to be seen, Duo found them immediately.

Heero's heart instantly warmed at the sight of the pretty, small werewolf. Duo looked neither as pale nor thin as he had even a few days ago. And when his violet eyes fell on Heero, the tiniest little smile tugged at his lips. He easily went into the man's embrace when Heero held open his arms. He felt and heard the werewolf breathe deeply of his scent.

"It's gone," he murmured.

If Quatre heard, he didn't comment on the strangeness of that observation.

"Where's Trowa, Duo?" the blonde aristocrat asked instead.

Duo stepped back, a faint blush staining his cheeks. "He . . . left. He said he'd be back for lunch."

"Quatre asked me to come to help him figure out what they're going to do with you on the full moon," Heero said, lightly tipping up Duo's chin.

The flush deepened as the werewolf cast a guilty and worried look at Quatre. "I don't want to be any trouble . . ."

Quatre smiled and touched Duo's face. "You're not. I'll go put on water for tea. You two just go ahead and sit in the parlor."

Heero tugged Duo into the indicated room and sank onto a plush sofa directly in front of a cheery fire. Duo needed no prodding to snuggle against Heero's side, tucking his head under his chin. Heero immediately felt the little were sucking out his body heat and smiled. Such a sweet thing.

He sincerely hoped Quatre never asked him why he hadn't taken the little one in. It was a question that he couldn't answer—though his reason was a very good one. Sighing, he rested his chin on Duo's head.

"How are you doing, pup? You look a little better being in Quatre's care. Does he put you at ease?"

Duo shifted a bit. "Yes," he replied. "I don't know why."

Heero smoothed cinnamon hair back. "It's because he's a good man. I suspect he'll be very good to you."

The body in his arms expanded in a huge sigh. "I like Trowa."

To this Heero said nothing. Indeed, he had nothing to say. He'd known few sorcerers in his life, and all had made him uncomfortable. Trowa was no different. Either Duo sensed it or wished to speak no longer, for he said nothing more of it. It wasn't long after that when Quatre returned with a tray laden with tea.

"Have you no servants?" Heero asked, curious.

Quatre set the tray down, shaking his head. "No. I find I do not like having them underfoot. So every week my mother sends her maid to clean my estate from ceiling to floor." He smiled crookedly.

The blonde man took up a chair directly opposite his guest and boarder. He poured two cups of tea; no doubt he'd already learned that Duo did not like it. In fact Duo was a picky little eater—that was the werewolf in him.

"I'll tell you everything I know," Heero began, saving Quatre the trouble of figuring out what to ask first. "If questions come to mind, feel free to stop me and ask." He accepted a pretty mug and sampled the tea. A very light citrus flavor. It was good.

Quatre took a sip from his own. "Thank you."

Like any adolescent were, Duo dropped off to sleep in about two seconds. Heero absently stroked his hair.

"Werewolves are the most difficult to deal with because in the wild they live in packs just like their natural cousins. The adults teach the young how to control the change, but it's always a group effort. I'll be honest and say I have no idea how they do it. I've never known a werewolf that wasn't already an adult, and that's the sort of thing that doesn't come up in polite conversation."

Quatre smiled into his mug.

"Werewolves are extremely social. They not only like physical contact, but they need it as well. It wouldn't take much for a werewolf to die from the cold. They're also extremely sensitive to all forms of magic ability. They can smell necromancy, sorcery, and any non-humans. They can also understand the non-verbal languages of wild animals." Heero paused long enough to take another drink.

"Werewolves who cannot control their change are just like any wolf you might find in the wild," he continued. "They cannot understand. Often, especially in Duo's circumstance, they do not understand what has happened to them so they are dangerous and unpredictable. Few things are more volatile than a terrified animal."

"Can a werewolf learn to control the change on their own?" Quatre asked.

Heero watched Duo sleep for a moment. "I am not sure of that. Perhaps, if they are given the opportunity. Duo has not. I told you before, those five men simply drugged him and locked him up on the night of his change."

He saw the anger flicker over Quatre's kind countenance.

"I may not like that option much, either," Heero said slowly, "but it may be your only viable choice. If Duo remains awake, he will panic and most likely hurt himself trying to escape. I don't know how to teach him to control his change."

For a time, silence. "I don't like it," Quatre admitted. "Not at all. But neither do I like the thought of him spending the night locked up and terrified. If I let him outside, who knows where he would wind up."

Heero remained silent, letting the young man think about it. He was perfectly content to watch Duo. The fond feelings warmed him from the inside out. It was dangerous to be this close to Duo. The little werewolf represented things to Heero that he could not contemplate.

Quatre still had not spoken when Duo started out of a dead sleep and sat up, blinking sleepily. Moments later the front door opened. Heero blinked. That was probably the sorcerer—he suspected Trowa was Quatre's lover.

"Duo," Quatre captured the little werewolf's attention, "would you go tell Trowa we're in here?"

Nodding, Duo climbed off the sofa and trotted out of the parlor. Heero knew Quatre had something to say that he didn't want the young were to hear. He met the blonde man's aqua eyes. They were grave.

"How old is Duo?" he asked in a low voice.

"Sixteen," Heero replied.

"I have to ask you something," Quatre began, voice going even softer. "I dread knowing the answer, but I must know it. I know those five men kept him as a pet. Duo is a pretty little thing. Did they ever . . . touch him?"

Heero paused. "You're asking if they ever forced themselves on him sexually," he hazarded. Not really a question.

"Yes," Quatre confirmed.

Leaning back, Heero shook his head. "No."

Quatre visibly relaxed.

"They might have," Heero continued, letting the scorn lace his voice, "but someone told them a werewolf can infect a human through body fluids." He snorted. "A ridiculous superstition with no basis in truth. But it kept their hands off him, so I never saw fit to educate them."

Quatre's lips quirked in a grin. "Shame you don't know the identity of this person. I may have seen fit to thank them generously."

Heero shrugged. "A shame indeed."

Trowa walked in, Duo following close behind him. Heero could see contentment lingering on the werewolf's face. It was good to see. Quatre rose from his seat and took Trowa's arm.

"I apologize, Heero. I'll be right back. Duo, would you mind coming with us?"

Nodding, Heero settled back to wait.

-

Once they were out of earshot, Trowa turned curious eyes on his lover. Quatre looked down at Duo, who also looked curious.

"Is the name of the man you were talking about, Krysonia's husband, Treize Khushrenada?"

Duo blinked, and Quatre saw a shiver gently wrack his body. "I don't know his last name. But Treize is his first name."

"Do you know what he looks like?"

Nod.

"Describe him for us," Quatre instructed in what he hoped was a gentle tone.

"He's tall," Duo began, starting to fidget. He seemed to hate being the center of attention. "Very tall. Sort of . . . ginger-haired. And brown eyes."

"Do you know who the other two members of this Triumvirate are?"

"One is Zechs," Duo replied, and a faint flush stole over his cheeks. "I . . . saw him and Treize . . . kissing once."

Quatre raised an eyebrow. "Even though Treize is married?"

The flush deepened. "Yeah."

_Charming._ "And the third?"

For some reason, Duo's entire countenance closed. Right down to his posture. "I . . . I don't know his name," he began slowly. "He's rarely with the other two. But he has very dark hair. Black, maybe. And colorless eyes."

For a moment Quatre tried to decide if he should press. He _knew_ Duo was hiding something. But was it important? The last thing he wanted was to drive Duo away. But as Commander of the Defense Council, he also had an obligation to root out evil.

_Perhaps when I get my hands on this Khushrenada, he can be coerced into revealing the identity of this third Necromancer._

"Thank you, Duo," he said softly. "Why don't you two keep Heero company while I go start us some lunch?"

Duo needed no second bidding—he all but fled Quatre's presence. Giving his lover a significant look, Quatre headed for the kitchen.

_Damn it. How did it come to this? _

_

* * *

_

Hope this chapter wasn't too boring!


	3. Chapter 3

**Genre**: Supernatural / Fantasy

**Pairings**: 3x4, 1x2, 6+1, 13+1, 13x6x13, 13+OC, 5+2

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. That's all.

**Warnings**: Yaoi, lemon, language, mental instability, possible OOCness, violence, abuse

**A/N:** Pampers-KND asked how old everyone was, so I thought I'd clarify. Quatre isn't human—you'll have to wait to find out more. Trowa is one-hundred and sixty-five. Heero . . . you'll have to wait and see. XD

* * *

**Changes in the Dark**

For the first time in several days, Quatre woke alone. He seldom woke to Trowa by his side, but lately he always awoke with Duo pressed close to his body. It was a comforting sensation to which he was rapidly becoming attached. Sitting up, he glanced outside. Perhaps a few candlemarks past dawn—half an hour at most. Oh well. As good a time as any to get up.

As he dressed his thoughts carried him back to yesterday. Trowa and several others had started a search for Treize Khushrenada, but apparently he'd disappeared. Anxious, Quatre had resorted to once again calling on Heero for information.

"He and Krysonia never arrived as they said they would," Heero said with a strange little frown. He looked thinner and paler than even two days ago.

And to top it all off, tonight was the full moon. Duo had been extremely skittish the last few days, often refusing to come out of Quatre's bed at all. Quatre had not told the young werewolf of his plan to sedate him for the night. He wasn't sure why, but he just wanted Duo to drift off into a peaceful sleep before dusk and not wake until dawn when his transformation was over with.

That would give him a whole month to find an alternate solution. _I won't do this again._

The smell of breakfast immediately greeted him when he went downstairs, dressed and presentable. Trowa looked adorably domestic in a long white apron—a gift from Quatre's mother. She loved to tease Trowa.

"Good morning, angel," the sorcerer said when he saw Quatre, leaning down and kissing him. "I thought you might like eggs and bacon for breakfast."

"Sounds good," Quatre said, smiling and deepening the kiss for a moment. "Where's Duo?"

Trowa raised an eyebrow. "He's acting like a bitch in heat. I've never seen anyone so irritable. His timidity has been replaced by a temper suitable for ten women."

Quatre couldn't help it and burst into laughter. The thought of Duo, ears back and snarling, it was just too cute! "What'd he do?"

"He woke up as soon as I rose," Trowa said, "and he snapped at me for waking him. Actually _snapped_, as in, with his teeth. Drew a little blood! And if that weren't bad enough, when I asked him what he would like for breakfast, he told me in a short, curt little tone that he wished I would leave him alone. When I asked him what was wrong he acted like a cornered kitten! It was rather adorable."

Sobering, Quatre turned to leave. "I'm sure it has something to do with the full moon tonight. I'll go find him."

"Be careful he doesn't bite you."

Unable to help flinging his lover an amused look for that comment, Quatre began searching his estate. Though the size had never especially bothered him before, it did now. Really, were all these rooms necessary? They were proving quite the hindrance in finding one little werewolf.

He eventually found Duo in a room on the top floor. It was a little warmer up here than below, and the boy was curled up in the far corner. He'd dragged a pair of cushions off the couch to make a cozy-looking nest on the floor. The whole thing was surrounded by a heavy quilt Quatre dimly recognized as a gift from his mother years ago. Now, where had Duo found that?

The werewolf looked asleep, but as soon as Quatre was only a few paces away indigo eyes snapped open and Duo reared at him. It startled Quatre into backing down. He could see sharp white fangs behind those lips. With the light from the hall glinting off his eyes he looked more the werewolf than ever before. To Quatre's relief, there was definitely recognition in those eyes.

He was just clearly displeased at being disturbed. Quatre smiled softly, hoping to appease the irritable boy. "Hey. I was just wondering if you're hungry. Trowa made breakfast."

A low growl reverberated in Duo's chest. His eyes narrowed the slightest bit. "No," he said, and despite the growl he sounded civil . . . mostly.

And Quatre had to agree with Trowa. It was adorable, the anger. Duo was too cute for his own good. "I think you should eat anyway," he insisted gently, hoping Duo's own timid nature would encourage him to back down.

It didn't. In fact, Duo obviously did not appreciate the concern, because he sat up—and his eyes were flashing. His lips peeled away from his teeth in a snarl. "I'm not hungry!" he snapped, actually lunging forward a bit as though he planned to attack Quatre.

Okay. Time to switch tactics. Letting his own expression go hard, Quatre stared right into those violet eyes. Wolves responded in the wild to displays of strength, so perhaps Duo needed just that.

"You have no reason to act like that, Duo," he said in a slightly cold voice. "I'm trying to help you."

Apparently it was the right thing to do—or maybe the wrong. Duo's eyes widened and tears gathered in the corners to spill down his pale cheeks. "I . . . I'm sorry!" he stammered, backing up and hunkering down in his nest.

Instantly regretting his harshness, Quatre closed the distance between them and reached down. Duo started up, but while Quatre thought it might be another display of temper he instead pushed himself against Quatre's chest with a whimper. Settling down, Quatre pulled him into his arms and held him.

"Shh. Don't apologize. I'm sure this has to do with the full moon tonight."

Duo jerked back to peer into Quatre's eyes, tears instantly gone. "Oh." As though that never would have occurred to him. "Braudon always drugged me the night before so I slept through the whole day and night."

Quatre's chest tightened. Gods did he hate that man. All five of them. It gave him immense satisfaction that they would all be tried as the worst kind of criminal. If they weren't executed they would be sent off to the prison isle Tantras to live out the remainder of their lives. He pulled Duo back against him, tucking the cinnamon-haired head under his chin.

"You're not with them anymore, Duo," he murmured. "You're with me. I'll never hurt you. And I'll protect you from now on."

He could swear the boy started purring. In fact he nuzzled closer much like a contented kitten. "You mean that, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

And for the first time since Quatre had met him, that gamine face broke into a real, genuine, sweet smile. It lit up his whole face like sun shining at last on snow-covered fields. It was beautiful, and it _belonged_ there. He nudged his nose right under Quatre's chin.

"I really like you, Quatre. Heero told me you would be good to me, and he's never lied to me."

Quatre felt his eyes mist a little and blinked fiercely, giving the werewolf a squeeze. _I think he has a crush on that man,_ he thought with an inward smile. He was fine with that. He liked Heero. _He seems to care for Duo a great deal, as well. I wonder why he never took Duo in, or at least tried to find a better home for him._

He did remember Heero telling him he lived in Rauldone . . . it didn't make sense. Then again, it wasn't any of his business. He sifted his fingers through Duo's silken hair.

"Do you know who the third member of the Triumvirate is, Duo?" he asked.

The thin body in his arms stiffened immediately, and Duo jumped up, almost bowling Quatre over. "I'm hungry," he said in a short tone. And he stalked out of the room.

Quatre sighed. _I know he's hiding something from me. And unfortunately, I have to know._ But that could wait until this night was over. That could wait for a time Duo wasn't already so on edge.

-

Trowa prepared the drug and poured it into Duo's drink about an hour before dusk when the three of them sat down for dinner. Duo's moods had been up and down all day, ranging from anger to tears to brightly chipper. Quatre and Trowa (who stayed home to help Quatre cope with the feisty werewolf) both took it in stride, but both men were exhausted by the time dinner came.

Duo finished a little more than half before his eyes began drooping alarmingly. He staggered up from the table and made it a few steps before his legs collapsed beneath him. Trowa's lightning reflexes spared him hitting his head on the table—he caught him and carefully lifted him.

"Where are you going to put him for the night?" he asked, cradling the boy.

Quatre had him take Duo to one of the guest suites on the ground floor. "You don't have to stay if you don't want," he said. "Maybe you should run down to the office for a little while."

Trowa shook his head. "I can finish what I need to do here. I'll just be in the library. Are you going to stay with him all night?"

"At least for awhile," Quatre said. He was curious about the actual change.

Trowa left and closed the door.

It happened about half-an-hour after true dark when the full moon finally broke free of the horizon. It didn't happen all at once, and while Duo didn't wake from his drug-induced sleep his thin body tossed about on the bed, face contorted into what Quatre suspected was pain. After about fifteen minutes the boy was gone and in his place lay a small wolf. His fur was predominantly rusty-colored, but his pretty face was black. There was some gray and sandy brown mixed in, as well.

Rising, Quatre carefully eased the clothing off the thin frame. Even in this shape he looked too thin. His fur had a healthy sheen, though. Once the change was complete Duo lay still once more.

Quatre watch him breathe quietly for awhile before sighing and rising. He padded into the kitchen and got himself a mug of tea. Passing by the library he looked in on his lover. Trowa looked up at him and leaned up to give him a kiss.

"How's it going so far?"

"Good. I hope he's all right."

"I'm sure he will be, angel."

Quatre smiled down at him. "Thanks."

He returned to the room, not sure why he felt so uneasy. His mother was a nymph, and his father was an elf. Both of them were known for their uncannily accurate premonitions. Raking his fingers through his hair, Quatre pushed the door open to resume his watch.

And froze on the precipice. "Duo . . ." he breathed.

The werewolf was awake. His dark eyes were at half-mast as though still out of it, but at the sound of Quatre's voice his head shot up. His eyes were wide—and utterly terrified. No recognition. Nothing Quatre could reason with.

Not at all sure what he could do, Quatre slowly stepped toward him, careful to block the door. What would he do if Duo's fear turned into aggression? He had no idea. But he couldn't let Duo get out!

The motion brought Duo instantly to his feet, ears flat against his skull. His eyes darted frantically around the room, and his desire to escape was obvious.

_Shit, shit, shit! Why is he awake? Why didn't the drug work?_

He took one more step toward Duo and that was it. The werewolf leaped off the bed and sprang for the only avenue left him—the window. It was closed, of course. Duo jumped right through the glass. It shattered, littering the bedroom floor with glittering shards liberally stained with blood.

For the eternal length of time it took his heart to beat once, Quatre stared at the scene before him, unable to move. Then his body jerked as though stabbed with a red-hot knife.

"TROWA!"

* * *

Oh HO! A cliff-hanger!! Sorry it's short, but I had to end it there. I just had to.


	4. Chapter 4

**Genre**: Supernatural / Fantasy

**Pairings**: 3x4, 1x2, 6+1, 13+1, 13x6x13, 13+OC, 5+2

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. That's all.

**Warnings**: Yaoi, lemon, language, mental instability, possible OOCness, violence, abuse

* * *

**Who Am I?**

_There was a reason for it. It was a damn good reason. You did the right thing. What else could you do?_

Over and over. A repetitive litany that had become a personal mantra. And yet, why did cobalt eyes reflect back such hollow disappointment? An empty kind of resignation?

_He is not for you. You cannot have him. You would hurt him. You did the right thing._

Then why did he feel so guilty? The first moment Heero had ever seen Duo, he'd felt an instant attraction. If it had been merely physical, he would have been fine with it. But it was worse. So much worse than that.

_I had to. I had to protect him. From them. From . . . HIM._

"Heero . . ." a silken cold voice called from below.

Heero didn't so much as blink at the sound of Krysonia's voice. He continued staring blankly at his reflection. He wasn't sure which emotion was strongest as a plethora vied for dominance. Regret? Sorrow? Despair? Fear? They were jumbled to the point where they blended and merged, no longer distinct.

Krysonia's reflection appeared behind him. "Someone told that fool Defense Council about my husband and Zechs," she said. "There are warrants out for their arrest. I suppose I do not need to say this cannot happen."

"You knew it was just a matter of time," Heero said in a surprisingly dull voice. "Besides, I thought you wanted this."

"Oh, make no mistake about that, sweetheart," Krysonia purred, her cold fingers gripping Heero's chin and pulling his face around.

Finally breaking the spell that seemed to have fallen over him. He gazed into her colorless eyes.

"The Prime Minister's son is heading the search, Sonia. He's bright. I've met him. So have you. And he's not human, either."

"Don't worry about him, love. He's of little consequence. But I'm curious as to why you let him take in that sweet little werewolf. I would have thought you'd want to keep him to yourself when Braudon and his idiot friends were exposed."

Heero's heart wrenched painfully in his chest. "I 'let it happen' to keep him away from me," he ground out.

Krysonia laughed, an exceedingly cold sound. Even her gaiety could not thaw her arctic chill. "Heero my sweetling, I have been alive far, far longer than you. And I know for a fact this noble side of yours will vanish like a tiny, pitiful candle flame finally frozen over by winter's ice. I will see to it."

Behind her, Treize and Zechs materialized out of the darkness of the hall. Heero's heart began pounding. _No, I don't want this._

His fear didn't show on his face. In fact, his face betrayed nothing at all as the three surrounded him. Inside his emotions were turmoil. He let them remain that way, because it was only a matter of time now before he could no longer feel at all.

-

Quatre and Trowa searched all night. But the dark never revealed the little werewolf it so maliciously hid. Fervently glad he wasn't human and could therefore go much longer without sleep, Quatre tirelessly pursued his search. That feeling of unease had gotten steadily stronger as night reluctantly gave way to morning and surrendered to dawn.

Even the morning was wearing thin when Quatre finally found him. Lying curled up on the ground was Duo, completely naked. His eyes were closed, and his skin was white as sheet. His face, shoulders, arms, and chest were covered in cuts—the glass, no doubt.

Leaping off his horse, Quatre all but flew to him, but about five paces he stopped, literally repulsed by the thick and choking evil aura that lingered over the area. It was so strong Quatre had to choke off the urge the retch. Eyes watering, he looked around for a visible source for the feeling. There was nothing. But he wasn't sure he could safely step across that seemingly harmless stretch of ground to Duo's side. That could only mean one thing.

Duo was lying in a Necromantic Web. Necromancy was so vile using it was quite capable of tainting the very air. Sometime in the near past someone had used necromancy in this very spot, leaving behind tendrils that gathered into what had eventually been called a web. Judging by the sickening feel of this web, whatever had been done here had been especially vicious.

Reaching into his saddlebag, Quatre extracted a small silver mirror. "Trowa," he said.

Less than a second and Trowa's face appeared. "Did you find him?"

"Yes," Quatre said, "but he's been caught in a Necromantic Web. I can't even cross over to get him."

"I'll be right there."

A few seconds more and Trowa stepped out of thin air by Quatre's side. His brilliant green eyes took it all in and he frowned. "That must have been a foul spell. Perhaps even a Soul Separate."

Quatre watched as Trowa's skin began to glow as though surrounded by a pale gold halo. He stepped over the threshold into the web and carefully lifted Duo's thin body into his arms. As soon as he was back out of the web the glowing nimbus vanished. Even with the protective spell the sorcerer still looked a little green.

"Shit, that had to have been a Soul Separate. I've never felt such an evil web. He's barely alive, Quatre."

Heart thudding sickeningly against his ribs, Quatre nodded sharply. "Take him back to the estate. I'll bring the horses."

Giving his lover a long look, Trowa wordlessly complied.

-

It wasn't merely for Quatre's sake that Trowa had become attached to Duo. The little werewolf was just so . . . cute. Ever since Duo had come into their care Trowa had read every piece of literature he could find concerning them, but the sources of useful information were few and far between. But one thing stuck out clearly in his mind right now.

Werewolves were extremely sensitive to both sorcery and necromancy. As such, Duo would be doubly susceptible to the evil influence of the web. He'd probably run into it sometime during the night. It was likely the little one had fallen unconscious immediately, suffering the poisonous effects of the web for who knows how long.

Sorcery was good for healing in some circumstances, but curing this type of ailment was beyond him. He wasn't even sure it could be healed. He hissed a curse under his breath. This was exactly why necromancy had been banished by the Prime Minister long ago. It was a filthy, despicable power. In his experience it was something individuals always abused.

Indeed, he'd never seen it used for anything but ill. Trowa made a simple elixir from willow bark to help with the fever. It was about all he could do. Getting the unconscious Duo to drink it was a bit more of a challenge. Trowa finally filled a fat syringe and squirted it down the boy's throat. It started Duo coughing and spluttering, but he didn't truly wake.

Trowa got the whole dose down Duo's throat when Quatre came running into the estate. "How is he?" he asked at once, removing his jacket and riding gloves.

Sighing, Trowa brushed damp hair off Duo's forehead. "You'll probably make a more accurate assessment than I," he said. "I'm not the healer you and your mother are."

Quatre examined the werewolf, and when he finished he drew away with a grave expression. "You gave him something?"

"Willow bark elixir," Trowa replied. "It was the only think I could think to do."

He was a little surprised—and dismayed—to see moisture gathering in Quatre's amazing aqua eyes. "He's really sick," the young immortal whispered, biting his lower lip. "This is my fault."

Trowa immediately pulled his love into his embrace. "No. There was no way you could know the sedative would wear off."

Quatre didn't break down and cry. Indeed, the half-elf, half-nymph was one of the strongest men Trowa had ever met. "I've only met one person who knows anything worthwhile about werewolves. I think I need to talk to Heero and find out if there's anything we can do."

"I'll go," Trowa said at once. "You stay with him. You could do more for him if his condition were to worsen."

"Thank you," Quatre said, leaning up to give Trowa a brief kiss.

The manor in which Heero lived seemed awfully big for one person. Trowa knocked and waited. A few moments passed and Heero opened the door. Though he'd not known Heero for long and hardly knew anything about him, Trowa still tensed inwardly. Something about the young man was . . . different. He couldn't quite place it.

"It seems I'm blessed with uninvited guests today," he said in a flat voice.

His eyes. The normal, calm warmth in his eyes was gone. In fact his eyes were like shards of ice. Trowa raised an eyebrow. "I apologize if you find my timing inconvenient. I am here on behalf of Duo. Last night Quatre and I fed him a sedative to help him sleep the night, but shortly after his change he woke and escaped."

"Then you did not give him a second sedative?" Heero asked.

"No."

"Therein is your mistake. The change absorbs a great deal of energy, including anything in the system. Such as food. Water. Drugs."

Trowa felt the first stirrings of anger. "And I suppose you did not see fit to explain this to us?"

"Perhaps I am wearied of being your personal encyclopedia," Heero shot back.

Quite taken aback, Trowa blinked. "Was I mistaken in believing you cared for Duo?"

"I am certain there are many things about which you are mistaken," Heero said by way of reply. "Including that you are welcome here." And he shut the door.

Completely mystified, Trowa remained for a few moments longer, staring at the closed door. What a bizarre exchange. It was almost as though Heero's personality had completely changed overnight. Knowing there was nothing useful to be gained here any longer, Trowa took his leave.

-

Quatre sat by the bed, head resting in his hands, when someone knocked on the estate door and rang the heavy bell. Startled, he rose from his silent vigil and went downstairs. The man standing on the other side was no one he'd ever seen before. He was tall, shining black hair drawn straight back into a ponytail, equally black eyes filled with a calm sort of . . . scorn.

"Can I help you?" Quatre said, trying not to make hasty judgments.

"You're the one who took him," the stranger said in curt tones.

Quatre blinked, thrown off. "What? Took whom?"

"That pup," came the surprising reply. "Duo."

That brought Quatre's guard back up instantly. "What do you want with Duo?" he demanded. "He's under my protection."

"Mine, as well," the stranger said. "I and my pack found him last night, running wild and frightened."

Wait. "Your pack?"

"Yes. Unlike you, I am a werewolf, alpha of a small pack that has taken up residence in the Greywinds Forest."

So many things ran through Quatre's mind all at once he couldn't sort through them quickly enough to make his mouth work. Finally he snapped, "Why did you leave him, then?"

"It was not my intent," the werewolf said, black eyes burning. "A necromancer came out of nowhere, and it became more important for us to escape detection. Unfortunately, Duo is too young and wild. He did not understand my instructions. In the confusion we were separated. I'd been searching for him for many hours when I picked up your trail converging with his. I followed it here."

Not sure what it was coursing through him hot and bright, Quatre gave the werewolf a cool look. "A fine way you have of making demands. I don't even know your name."

The black gaze moderated a bit. "I am Wufei. I am the one who would easily and gladly accept Duo into my pack. You're not equipped to give him what he needs. Not in any way."

While that was certainly true, it still rankled. Quatre held his peace.

"I know he ventured into a Necromantic Web," Wufei continued. "I can help him. You're at least half elf. I could use your healing skills if you would consent to help me, as well. The two others in my pack are only a bit older than Duo, and both of them were hurt last night thanks to that necromancer."

Quatre's mind raced. Perhaps this werewolf could help him hunt this necromancer. He knew very little about necromancy, but he knew Soul Separate was a particularly nasty spell that killed its victim instantly by forcing the soul from the body. So he made a split-second decision and nodded.

"Duo is very ill. I would appreciate any help you can offer, and I will help your friends as well."


End file.
